


Wow Dude, That's Pretty Whack.

by Eggy_b



Category: IT (Movies-Muschietti)
Genre: Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Characters are prbly ooc, Eddie is basically a medium, F/M, Heavy Angst, Henry Bowers being Henry Bowers, Homophobia, Hurt Richie Tozier, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mike Hanlon is ridiculously knowledgable, Rated T for Trashmouth, Reddie, Richie is a ghost, Sad Richie Tozier, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Timeline is confusing, ghost richie, the arcade scene but worse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggy_b/pseuds/Eggy_b
Summary: On October 11th 1962, Richie Tozier was murderedOn July 17th, 1989, he was acknowledged for the first time since his death.－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－Or alternatively, Richie is a ghost, Eddie can see ghosts, and Mike Hanlon knows his stuff.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Connor Bowers/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 33
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So right off the bat, this book contains:
> 
> -Homophobia/homophobic language  
> -Swearing/Cursing  
> -Descriptions of violence/gore  
> -Blood  
> -Morbid ideas  
> -Hate crimes
> 
> If you are sensitive to any of these topics, I advise against reading this fic. Trust me, it's not worth it. I try to mix some humour in with the serious parts of the story so if that's confusing or annoying, my apologies. Oh, and my pacing sucks.

ＯＣＴＯＢＥＲ１１ｔｈ１９６２

Crisp, curled leaves were scattered across the path, decorating the paved slabs with different hues of orange and red. The area was quiet and tranquil, The noises of the bustling streets distant, sounding more like a buzz or hum, nothing but background noise. Light wind whistled through the gaps in a large, empty house that rested in the setting, almost like the wall blocking the couple from the rest of the world.

A raven-haired teen arrived, with gangly limbs and hideously magnified eyes , almost determined to destroy the peace of the secluded haven. He leapt in long strides through the dying, uncut grass, crushing small leaves beneath his feet, the crunch of their aged bodies against the cement path giving him great satisfaction. He grinned widely, his uneven teeth caged in horrendous-looking braces on full display. 

This was Richie, the first of two to enter the small 'garden' (it was more of a badly kept yard in all honesty) behind the infamous house on neibolt street. Nobody dared to go within a twenty metre radius of the abandoned structure, meaning it was perfect for him, and the second person accompanying the abnormally tall boy.

Connor hesitantly followed behind, steadily jogging to keep up with Richie. His blonde curls bounced with each step, falling over his eyes as he stopped abruptly. He came face to face with dark eyes through coke-bottle lenses, and a galaxy of freckles obscured by a red-tinted blush. The dark-haired male softly reached up to place his hands against Connor's cheeks. This was what they came here for, and so he let it happen.

The shorter of the two wrapped his arms around Richie's shoulders, balancing himself of his tiptoes in order to reach his lips. He missed the days when he'd been the one towering over the paler teen, but after he'd hit a growth spurt over summer the previous year, Richie had managed to take that role.

Deep, cobalt orbs met obsidian ones, both sets softly fluttering closed as their lips met. Both of their faces were stained pink, their arms holding onto each other to keep themselves as close as possible. Connor could feel Richie smile into the kiss, himself repeating the gesture. He'd always been a nervous boy, but Richie made him feel a different kind of anxiety. One that spiked like an electric shock before settling as a knot in your stomach that made you feel dizzy but in a good way. It wasn't exactly butterflies, but he liked it, and he figured Richie did too.

After they parted, he sighed in contempt, leaning into his boyfriend's chest, a soft grin visible in his features. He felt the faint jab of Richie's pronounced chin through his curls, the poorly-sighted boy resting his head atop of Connor's.

That moment was like pure joy, but that didn't seem to explain why it had to be so short lived.

A dull thud followed by a pained yelp seemed to send a stab of alarm through the blonde male, the grip around his waist loosening dramatically. He jumped back, startled by the sudden noise. It took him a minute to regain composure and figure out what was going on, but his thoughts were distracted from the current events, his attention instead being dragged towards his cousin, Henry Bowers.

"Richie fucking Tozier? Did i just catch you trying to bone my little cousin?"

He was frozen, where was richie. He was no longer stood in front of connor, smiling in a way that seemed brighter than the sun like he'd been so recently, and it scared him.

In a moment of panic, he began to frantically scan the area, stopping immediately after spotting a brightly-clad figure sprawled across the concrete path, groaning in pain. Beside him were his glasses, a lense popped out and cracked beside the frames, next to the blood-stained rock that had knocked them off in the first place. The first thing that warrented any attention however, was the thick liquid pooling into the inky coils of Richie's hair.

It had splattered across the grey stone on impact, the crimson red baring high contrast to the ground.

Connor fought the urge to rush to his aid, standing on the sidelines with wide eyes, and shaking hands. His sandy-haired cousin didn't seem to pay him any mind, instead focusing on the boy who was slowly trying to push up from against the ground.

They were so foolish.

"ANSWER ME YOU FUCKING FAGGOT !"

The shorter boy flinched rather dramatically at the sudden outburst, even the two boys accompanying Henry showing discomfort with the situation. With Richie's failure to reply, the older male reached into his pocket, retrieving a gun which presumably belonged to his father. The metallic glint of the object was enough to pull a shaky sob from Connor's throat. 

At this, he received a bullet to the ground in front of his feet, inches away from missing. He screamed in shock, reaching up to sheild his face as if it would be of any use. His shoulders shook with fearful cries as Henry shot him a demented grin 

"What's up Connor? Yannow boys don't cry. Why ya crying? You scared for the Trashmouth? Huh? Is that it? COS IT BETTER NOT BE ! " 

He struggled to find the strength to respond, but mustering up as much confidence as he could in the moment, he hesitantly whispered 

"N-no, you just didn't tell me y-your town was filled with little f-fairies."

He felt sick.

He hated how bitter he sounded. He hated how scared he sounded. And he hated the broken gasp that emerged from Richie's still form. At this, The mullet-wearing monster spun on his heel and took a step over to the vulnerable mess that was richie.

All Richie could hear by now, however, was ringing as his vision went from blurry to nonexistent. His eyes were welling up with burning tears, but not from pain. He was numb, everything was numb and it was fucking terrifying. From in front of the sunlight, he could make out the menacing sillhouette of his attacker, the ominous black mass being recognisable from the pure malice it seemed to radiate.

He could hear muffled yells, followed by a click as his head fell to the side as he attempted to move, like it was suddenly too heavy for his neck to hold.

"H--! Wh-- wa- --at -uppos-- to -e?! Huh tozier? G-- somethi-- to sa-?!"

He slowly opened his mouth to respond, his half lidden eyes growing dull, but he was essentially startled into a state of consciousness by a sudden kick to stomach. Vomit all but flew from his mouth and across the stone slabs. He coughed to try and rid his throat of the acidic sting left behind, but was interrupted by his own gutteral screams.

A horrific burn rushed through his left leg as his entire body spasmed, writhing in pain as his voice grew hoarse from the pained cries that had left him moments proir. As his leg lost feeling, he couldn't find it in him to panic, instead welcoming the feeling. His screeches eventually died down to shallow breaths that Connor couldn't bear to hear as he curled in on himself on the ground, hiding in his arms as if it could take him back to a less terrifying scenario. It didn't stop him from looking up however, when he heard the gun clatter against the ground. It would have brought him relief had he not seen Henry kneeling with his legs either side of richie's twitching body. 

His grin seemed to grow wider and wider as he rolled up his sleeves and clenched his fists. His 'friends' had run away by this point, bolting through a gap in the mesh fence as they stumbled over their legs to get away from this psychopath they'd been following.

Connor however hadn't moved an inch. It was like he was stuck, spectating in sick curiosity. He may as well have run with the others, because here he was, frozen and watching as his own cousin launched his knuckles into his boyfriend's pale face.

It started with his eyes, growing enflamed and red in a way that would surely emerge into deep purple bruises given time, and much to his dismay, it was followed by a sickening crunch. Connor couldn't tell if it was from Richie's skull against the rough ground, or his nose shattering, a deep groove being formed in the flesh, exposing the blood-covered cartlidge due to the sheer force against his abused skin.

Either way,it sent a chill down his spine 

'Just like the leaves'

Only Richie loved the leaves, and he loved the noises they made, but nobody could love the current scenario, apart from the sick way Henry seemed to.

Connor stared as Henry's, long, skinny fingers wound around Richie's neck, clenching his teeth as he began to tighten his grip. The vulnerable boy beneath him let out a weak wheeze at first, which evolved into panicked gurgling. He struggled to move his legs, trying his hardest to make a move, to even writhe in pain, to get this murderous fuck off of him, and alas he failed. His hands weakly grabbed at the other boy's wrists. His fingertips began to grow cold and Richie didn't completely understand why. He couldn't think, and really he didn't want to.

After a few attempts of clawing at Bowers's arms, he let his limbs fall to his side, as a blissful loss of feeling crossed his mind. His muscles refused to answer his calls, the tightness in his throat overtaking anything he could have felt. His lungs were on fire, but rather than a flicker, Richie was met with a dark void caving in from the edges of his vision.

The light left his eyes.

His mouth was left slightly agape, and his face was paler than usual. No sweet, playful smile, no soft blush, nothing was left.

Suddenly it was like everything of richie was just

Gone.

Connor couldn't help but stare into Richie's half-lidded, glassy eyes, the pupils dilating as his irises seemed to go from an inky shade, to a grey the colour of lead.

And it was only now that the murderer waltzed over to Connor, grabbing him roughly by the arm and pulling him to his feet, his fingers digging into his skin with such force it threatened to bruise.

Connor could care less however, his looping thoughts being 

'That's not richie anymore. He's gone. He's gone connor '

he felt like he should have been more disturbed by the events he'd witnessed as he left the lifeless husk that had once been Richie, sprawled across the ground in a pool of his own,grossly congealing, blood.

He couldn't find it in him to go back, the shock still coursing through his veins as tears rolled down his cheeks, leaving burning trails of guilt-fuelled fire.

Connor let Henry take him away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie moves to Derry and meets his future friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? This isn't a crackfic i swear.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter:  
> -Blood  
> -Descriptions of injuries

ＪＵＬＹ１７ｔｈ１９８９

Dark brown curls pressed up against the cold, smooth surface of the glass windows incorporated into the small vehicle. The wild locks bouncing with every sudden jerk of the car against the bumpy road. Lucious green scenery consisting of various trees and shrubs at the roadside flashed by Eddie's eyes as he stared through the panes at nothing in particular. He sighed boredly, the sound barely distinguishable between the noise of the engine and the rattle of the pills that seemed to line any sort of pocket or container he owned.

His mother however, picked up on his disappointment, sparing a concerned glance through the mirror. Her eyes flickered between the boy's reflection and the road, her focus wavering.

"Eddie-bear? What's wrong? Are you getting travel sick? Should i pull over?"

The red-clad teen resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his mother's pointless fretting, instead allowing himself to slightly furrow his eyebrows in response to his mild annoyance.

"I'm fine mommy, we've been driving for eight hours already. It would've shown sooner."

The woman's pig-like, beady eyes squinted in worry behind her glasses, her frustration growing apparent.

"Are you sure? You know you're a delicate boy eddie."

In her periphreal vision, she saw him nod in agreement, an almost solemn edge held within the action however, due to his visible reluctance. Truly, Eddie figured he understood, for he did believe there was truth in the endless, tumbling words that she spewed about his asthma, or his vulnerability and sickness, but it was hard to listen to her concerns by then, for the short boy was convinced that she didn't hold his best interests at heart.

The reason behind this was contributed to by their current scenario, with Eddie sat in a slump in the back of his mother's car, surrounded by flimsy cardboard boxes filled to the top with books, clothes, and various other belongings. The moving truck was already at the address, as his mother wanted to get everything out of the way. In fact, she probably did it out of some form of paranoia, the woman being notorious for her overthinking, however it did mean that Eddie could spend his first day in Derry exploring rather than organising his room's furniture instead.

His bony elbow was propped up against the cool glass surface of the window, his arm bent to reach his face in order for him to rest against it, cupping his own cheek in a tired, drowsy manner. The doe-eyed boy didn't truly understand why he was so angry about the move, in fact it would probably be better for him.

After the events that had occurred during the theatre department's production of 'Sweeney Todd: The demon barber of Fleet Street' he'd wanted to leave New York as fast as possible. The main reason, being that there isn't really any coming back from screaming at nothing whilst onstage in front of the entire student body. That had been the first time Eddie had seen one of the many, translucent, slightly whispy, and apparently invisible figures that would haunt the rest of his life.

Of course, he'd grown more accustomed to these sightings over time, eventually getting used to the gore-hounded people he'd see from time to time. Most commonly, they'd be standing by the roadside or an alleyway, contributing the Eddie's fears of murder and car accidents, implanted by his mother. 

However, as much as he'd grown a resistance to his fears of the pepple themselves, he'd never understood the bizarre ability. He'd only been dealing with it for nine months so far, but by now it was just another thing he'd have to deal with atop of all the other tasks and trials that accompanied teenage life.

He'd always assumed that the ghosts had been a 'coming of age' type of thing, as the day he'd publicly humiliated himself also happened to be his thirteenth birthday. October 11th 1988 and they were performing their slightly early halloween show, when out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw a spirit and his life came crashing down. This was, rather fairly, his usual mentality when it came to the supernatural.

The main problem he had with this whole arrangement, was probably the place they were moving to.

Derry fucking Maine where everyone's a christian, children get murdered for being themselves, and the weather never changes. Although it would be hard to verify any of these statements, these were things you would generally hear about the area. It was your typical small town community.

Eddie had been thinking about this so deeply that, despite his seeming concentration on the scenery, he had barely taken notice of the large, rather ugly sign that adorned the grass verges by the highway.

'Welcome to derry'

A simple statement, Eddie was actually somewhat disappointed. It happened to be the kind of thing you'd find on most signs entering different places, in face he'd seen a lot driving through different states in the past.

A notable difference with this sign though, was that it was an ugly greenish-turquoise colour, and it looked very grey, presumably from dirt. The paint was peeling in strips, with the ones that were clinging curled and falling forwards from it's surface. The uninteresting statement was written neatly in cursive, in white, or rather, a pale yellow shade from the decay with a side of rust and moss.

Derry didn't seem very welcoming anymore.

Eddie cringed, a shiver coursing through his body as he thought about the germs and bacteria that coated the signs surface, almost flinching when he considered the possibility of the diseases you could get just from standing under it. The first impression that Derry was going to be a disgusting hellhole was set, and the short-statured male was going to do everything he could to forget about it.

His mother on the other hand, payed no mind to this, instead happily exclaiming their arrival.

"Did you see that sign Eddie-bear? We'll be at our new house soon! Are you excited?"

He hated her overly high-pitched tone, she was babying him again, but he didn't have the heart to criticise her, instead responding with a curt nod and an insincere

"Yeah."

His reply was brief, but it seemed to be good enough for Sonia as they continued driving, eventually reaching a slight dip in the road as it thinned down to a simple two-way street.

Buildings began to line the edges of Eddie's sight, some being houses painted pale shades of blue and yellow, and some being stores or apartment buildings. In all honesty, the town itself didn't look too bad, the streets seeming fairly cleanly and the paint of the various structures being well-kept with a polished finish.

He mentally hummed in approval as they ventured deeper into the heart of the town, turing onto a little side road of powder blue homes, with picket fences and pristine white doors. Judging by the gradual slowing of the engine, Eddie figured they had arrived.

His mother meticulously parked next to the large, more grey than white, moving truck that she'd sent there, bringing the car to a stop as she stepped out onto a small driveway.

The dark-haired hypochondriac was soon to follow, slipping his fanny pack from the back of his seat and instead clipping it securely around his waist. His mother was smiling as she started a conversation with the truck drivers, presumably about their furniture and prices, just stuff that Eddie didn't hold any interest in. After a few seconds of standing around on his aching legs, he shakily walked over to her, trying to ignore the intense tingling that rushed through his feet.

"Ma,can i go look around please?"

She turned her head to face him, squinting with scepticism before mumbling a small

"Of course honey, your bike's in the back of the car if you want to ride around for a while, but be home within 2 hours please Eddie-bear, i want you to meet the neighbours and you need your rest!"

He nodded energetically in response, smiling at his luck. Mainly, because Sonia Kaspbrak was so overly protective of her little baby boy that he'd barely get the chance to go around on his own, especially in new areas.

A few minutes later, filled with great difficulty, Eddie had managed to, through many collisions with other objects and a cocophony of scraping and crashing noises, hoist his bike over the back of the sticky leather seats and beside him, not bothering to dig out any sort of protective gear.

He haphazardly called out to his mother

"Ma! I'm leaving now!" As he strolled away, holding the handles of his bike as he stedied it beside him.

"Okay Eddie-bear! Be careful and don't talk to strangers, i love you!"

"I love you too mommy!" He yelled over his shoulder, eventually turning onto a wider road and stopping for a second to throw his leg over the seat of his bike, gripping the handles as he kicked up the break and pushed off from the ground for a reasonably momentous start. 

He smiled as he rode through the filtered sunlight, the bright green leaves and shaded street creating a besutiful atmosphere. He could feel a gentle breeze through his, for once uncombed, locks and the peace it all seemed to bring lead him to sigh in contempt.

Acknowledging the possibility that Derry maybe wasn't a hellhole, he stopped to ask for directions to the centre of the town, in the end being told to turn down Neibolt street and go left down a side road next to a large black house.

Although he needed to stop to read the pine-coloured signs, he eventually spotted the one he'd been scanning the cluster of street names for, once again setting off at a decent speed and curving his path to go down the other road.

His dark brown eyes flickered from left to right, frantically scanning the area for the house he'd been meaning to find, eventually however, his eyes landed on something else, leading him to gasp in shock, losing concentration and toppling off of his bike, eventually landing in a tangled heap on the floor.

Frantically, he threw himself forward, looking around for what he'd previously seen, his eyes eventually catching sight of a boy.

He was tall and gangly, with awkwardly knobbly elbows and knees on limbs that had no business being so long and skinny. He was clad in a brightly coloured floral shirt, left open over a pale grey one as if it were a jacket, with baggy greenish-grey shorts that only loosely fit his frame. He wasn't conventionally attractive, his mouth being large and his eyes being horrendously magnified. A pair of broken glasses adorned his pale, freckled face, his soft, unruly, raven curls falling over them.

Eddie would have thought he was somewhat beautiful with his seemingly effortless grace just being there, until he took notice of the ugly blue and purple splotches of painful looking bruises that seemed to bloom across his skin. With that aside, his neck was covered in them, being red and enflamed alongside one of his twinkling black eyes, essentially half shut from the swelling. That wasn't even the worst of it however when Eddie saw that his shoulders, face,and left leg were caked in flaky dry blood, one being from an open bullet wound in the boy's left thigh and the copious amount on his shoulders being from an injury somewhere on his head or back, eddie guessed. The blood on his face however, stemmed from a busted nose which was awkwardly pushed forwards at an awkward angle, clearly broken, and his lips with multitudes of splits in the soft pink flesh.

Eddie hadn't failed to notice his transluscence and faint glow, in fact he almost pitied the boy, however his attention was directed elswhere by someone calling out to him.

He heard the ringing of a bike bell and a screeching of tyres as they braked, coming to a halt at his side.

"Hey kid! You alright? Looks like you took a nasty fall."

Eddie blinked slowly, taking in the appearance of the kind stranger.

She was wearing a flowing white dress adorned with small blue flowers, the spaghetti straps leaving her freckled shoulders exposed. She had a soft-looking face with gentle looking yet icy blue eyes and a galaxy of freckles similiar to those of the boy he'd just caught sight of. However, her most noteable trait was her flaming red hair. It was short and curled, and honestly looked wonderfully fluffy. She was pretty.

At his failure to reply, she just laughed softly, holding out a hand to help him up.

He hesitantly grabbed it, being hoisted to his feet with enough force that, had he not stumbled, he would have fallen hard enough to break his bones.

She smiled fondly, asking again "you okay kid?"

He was finally broken out of his mindless staring and, rather flustered, he looked down and answered.

"Yuh-yeah, uh, sorry"

She smiled and ruffled his hair, causing him to jump in surprise. His face was flushed more from embarrassment than anything else but had he genuinely found her attractive (aside from just acknowledging her beauty), his face would have been redder than the shirt he wore.

He looked up at her and saw that she wasn's actually alone, instead accompanied by 4 boys on bikes with their feet above their brakes, ready to kick them down if need be.

The girl however regained his attention as she put a hand on her hip and tried to strike up a conversation.

"So what happened?"

It was only now that Eddie had remembered the beaten boy by the dark, decaying house, his head whipping around to look for him.

"I uh-" he looked around once more, being met with nothing. He should have expected this, but nevertheless, he hoped to see him again. However, with the lack of a better response, Eddie blurted

"I see dead things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't clicked away yet I'll be honoured. I wrote this at 3:47am and i have regrets. Also, the next chapter is gonna be hella angsty so take this instead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie realises he's dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay  
> Warnings  
> This gets pretty morbid  
> Also i have no idea how people think when they find out they're dead considering that i have not died and i like to avoid thinking about it so sorry that this sucks

ＯＣＴＯＢＥＲ１１ｔｈ１９６２

To say Richie was panicking would be a massive understatement. His brain felt like it was on fire, everything hitting him all at once. It was as if anything surrounding him had faded into static, like an ocean of buzzing oblivion and he was drowning in it. Breathing was difficult, he wanted to hyperventilate, was he breathing? He couldn't tell, he couldn't feel it happening. Is he fucking breathing?!

Unconsciously, he began to weave his fingers through his untamed, charcoal curls until his fingers reached a patch of clumped, soaked locks. His eyes widened, the blurriness at the edges of his vision beginning to fade as he tried to ground himself. It hadn't been his first instinct to focus on something else but it seemed to be working. He'd heard that focusing on senses during moments of panic could be helpful, so he kept going. 

He carefully extracted his fingers from his hair, his hands shaking as he brought them down into his line of sight. He hadn't expected to see the deep crimson liquid that had been gushing from his scalp but there it was, dripping from his fingertips. Any progress he'd made came crashing down as he realised the gravity of his own state.

Desperate for security, he folded his arms, gripping at his skin, his uneven nails leaving deep grooves in his flesh. The marks disappeared instantly but he hadn't really noticed at that point, his first coherent thought hadn't even concerned himself anyway, because where was Connor?

In a moment of realisation, he began to look around for him, tears rolling down his cheeks as he scanned the area in a frenzy, unable to catch sight of the blonde. Richie had experienced panic attacks before but this was beyond terrifying.

He swore that he'd been stood with Connor mere minutes, no, seconds prior, he could remember the warm feeling the shorter boy's body against his own as they smothered each other with loving affection. Then he could remember the pain, in fact it still seemed to send a throbbing ache through his bones.

"Connie?" He called weakly, still stumbling over his feet in his insecurity. His voice was weak and raspy as he tried to force an inhale. It was like he was suffocating, his chest feeling hollow and constricted.

He continued to search for any sign of familiarity, his eyes eventually catching sight of a bloodied figure sprawled across the paved footpath. He felt helpless, like a lost child looking for their parents in a crowd, but Richie was desperate, and a million times more terrified.

Momenterily, he broke out of his frantic state, dumbly blinking out of shock. Tripping over his feet, he rushed over to the unmoving body, failing to notice their similarities, his mind clouded by his fear.

"Hey! Are you okay? Hello?! Please..." Slowing dramatically, he came to a stop at it's side, his dull eyes widening in shock as he took in the person's appearance. He hadn't exactly been expecting to see his own shirt covered in blood, a shiver ran down his spine as he felt his own dull eyes piercing his soul. "What...."

His lip began to quiver as he fought the urge to vomit, the only thing he could think was 'whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck-'

That was his face, his hair, his clothes, it was him in a pool of his own blood, skin pale, lips stained a pale against his hollow face.

The urge to run was strong within him, his entire body screaming at him to get the fuck out of there but he just couldn't. His feet seemed to be fixed in place, a numbness washing over him as he stood shaking over his own corpse. He almost wanted to kneel down and touch it, just to prove to himself that this wasn't happening.

Since his limbs evidently weren't cooperating, he fell to the floor, one palm was laid flat against the ground for support, the other was tightly clamped over his mouth. Richie gagged and sobbed into his hand but nothing came up, the result being painful dry heaving until the butning urge to vomit faded.

Feeling ridiculously helpless, he attempted to cautiously poke his sunken face. He was shaking in both fear and anticipation, his glassy eyes fixated on his own, mirrored on the ground before him. He'd been expecting to come into contact with cold, clammy skin, but instead his fingers shot right through the solid flesh, which was worse than anything he could have mentally prepared for.

He retracted his hand as if he'd been painfully and suddenly scolded, scrambling to get away. Once again, he felt like he should be hyperventilating. It was only now, taking notice of his inability breathe, and more disturbing lack of needing to , that a thought crossed his mind amidst the panic.

'Am i dead?'

By now he'd forgotten about Connor, instead more concerned by the fact that he might be dead. It was fair to think so, but this really hadn't been what he expected. Who really knows what to expect when you die? It's not like anyone could tell you.

Richie had been expecting darkness, and a feeling of general unawareness. Along the lines of oblivion and numbness. Right now, though, he was anything but numb, he was burning, pure shock and horror coursing through his veins. It was going faster than any blood, for sure, considering that your heart doesn't beat when you're fucking dead.

That gave Richie a spark of hope, but deep down he knew his heart wasn't beating. Usually he could hear it pounding in his ears, the blood rushing wildly under his flesh. He remembered feeling it right before he blacked out, so why wasn't he feeling it now?

Reluctantly, he pressed his unsteady fingers against his wrist, yearning to feel a pulse. Instead he was met with stillness and cold, unnerving emptiness of sound. Everything seemed to stop as he moved to his neck, again met with the feeling of still, chilling skin. He felt like he could cry again, cautiously bringing his knees to his face as he peaked over the top of them, still staring at his swollen, sunken face.

It wasn't long until he decided that he needed to leave, still keeping focused on his own bloodied corpse. It was almost funny, he'd never been able to focus on anything that well for his entire life, which it only now occurred to him that he would never live out. He'd tried waking himself up of course, pinching his arms, hitting his temples with clenched eyes and closed fists, but nothing worked.

Pushing up from the ground, he stood up to his full 6 foot height and and brushed himself off, taking notice in how any dirt and dried blood that left him form seemed to dissolve out of existence the moment it began to fall.

He didn't know what was happening, he didn't know what he was, but he knew he needed to leave, and that's what led him to turn away, leaving the husk that was once himself behind. Reaching the chainlink fence, he ducked down to see the gap in the bushes. 

Once again, he tried to move the shrubbery out of the way when trying to exit, his hand instead just phasing through the greenery. A wave of nausea ran through him, the experience being no less disorienting than the first time.

As somewhat of a test, he mimicked a deep inhale to help calm his nerves and took a step forward, finding himself halfway through the fence, the weaved metal visible through his form. He gulped, his hands growing rigid by his sides as his eyes widened comically. 

Taking another step, he found himself on a somewhat busy street, more for housing as it wasn't by a large roadside area. Looking around hopefully, searching for familiarity, he spotted a girl who looked to be maybe a few years older than him approaching.

Feeling the need to invalidate his theory and search for some form of confirmation, he reached out shakily, calling out to her, pleading.

"Hey-" he received no response, not even a glance, she just kept walking. He felt his stomach drop "please, i think i'm hurt, please help me, please don't ignore me!" In a swift movement, he stepped out in front of her, his hands in front of his chest, clasped as if to pray for her sympathy "I'm right here! I'm right-" she walked through him, literally. He felt a strong shiver rush through him, his legs buckling beneath him. His hope became anguish as he brought his hands up to his face, a broken, choked noise forcing it's way out of his throat.

He was dead. He would never live his life as he wanted to, he would never do anything he set out to, and he may never see anyone he loved ever again, he was dead. Gone. Too far gone.

He cried for himself, and he cried for Connor. He couldn't cry for his parents, they'd be happy he was gone. One less burden. Everything would be easier without a child wandering around the house daily, nagging and complaining as children do, and it wasn't like he'd ever had friends.

The only person who cared was Connor, and he was nowhere to be seen, and so for a little while, Richie held his hands together, hugging himself, talking to himself and pretending that Connor was there with him.

A few hours passed where Richie sat curled in on himself and cried until his eyes felt sore and dry, only adding to the pains that racked his body, which was physically just a few metres away on the other side of the fence.

When he'd considered the close proximity he had to his battered corpse, he stood up weakly, sniffling as he rubbed at the dry tear tracks that stained his enflamed cheeks.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward, his usually long, prideful strides shortened to nervous scuffling. He'd been wanting to cross the road in order to out some distance between himself and the rickety house, but the moment he stepped off the pavement he fell back.

An unseen force held him back, quite literally shoving him away.

Once he regained composure, he tried again, and again, and again, eventually giving up as his spine began to ache from the repeated impact against the concrete. He was scared, trapped, hurt, and dead.

He no longer felt like himself, and for one second he wished he was surrounded by darkness. He'd always feared that concept when it came to death, but now experiencing the alternative he couldn't sat he found any comfort in being wrong.

Oblivion was better than this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My👏Pacing👏Is👏Shit👏  
> Sorry you had to read that absolute shitshow, next chapter will suck less i hope


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-upload cos the formatting got fucked up and thisis probably the only way i can sort it

To say Eddie hated himself in that moment was an understatement. He'd never been very social, and he had his mother to blame for this. She'd always had him under her thumb, convincing him to stay home and avoid the outside world as much as one possible could. He was thankful that she hadn't done something crazy like organise homeschooling or his introduction to the group he was now accompanied by could have gone much worse.

It's not like he felt as if he'd revealed some deep dark secret, more that they probably thought he was crazy, weird, or trying to be funny and failing. At the realisation of his ridiculous words, Eddie's mouth clamped shut. His face grew even redder in embarrassment, putting his shirt to shame. He stared at the group somewhat expectantly, not prepared for the laughter they'd been trying to stifle. The only ones who weren't giggling uncontrollably were a somewhat chubby boy, looking more confused than anything, and a tall boy with blonde curls, who was completely straight-faced and seemed uninterested. 

Eddie honestly found him somewhat intimidating, only letting himself relax once he heard the girl try to talk through her fading giggles. He redirected his attention to see her smiling at him mischievously.  
"Dead things, huh?" she said jokingly, an edge of playful sarcasm evident in her tone.

It didn't take a lot of social experience for Eddie to understand that she thought he was joking, which he probably should have expected from any sane person in all honesty. He was glad, considering that if he played along, it would save him from an explanation.

"Oh yeah, completely fucked up looking, and evidently, very distracting" he replied, gesturing to his discarded bike. She chuckled along with some of the others 

"you're funny, but you should watch your language kid." He felt somewhat insulted by this, she couldn't be much older than him, who was she to talk down to him? However, she seemed nice, and not wanting to waste the chance of creating a new friendship, he overlooked the whole 'kid' thing and instead responded with a sarcastic comment. 

"Oh no. I'm completely serious." He deadpanned, shrugging slightly. Her smile grew wider as she put a hand on her hip. 

"I'll say it again, you're funny, care to introduce yourself?" Eddie was somewhat taken aback by the sudden question, but nevertheless not surprised by the clear disbelief. She seemed genuinely nice, and so he was willing to trust her with at least his name. 

"I’m Eddie.” he tried to smile as he said it in an attempt to return her friendly attitude. He probably looked like he was grimacing but the redhead didn’t seem to mind. She held out her hand for him to shake as she took a step closer.

"I’m Beverly Marsh, but you don’t seem to have a last name mister mysterious.” She tilted her head, smirking as he hesitantly weaved his dainty hand around her fingers.

"Suh-sorry, it’s Kaspbrak.” her eyes widened in interest at this, letting go of his hand and snapping her fingers.

“Polish, right?” her hands were aimed at him in the form of awkward finger guns, her expression somewhat curious. Eddie looked at her, confused before the realisation dawned on him. He was aware of his heritage, but was it really that obvious? People didn't take very kindly to foreigners but Beverly seemed nice. He’d heard that people could ‘look’ polish but he’d never believed it, so he answered rather sheepishly.

“Uh...i am, kinda, um, what brought that on?” he nervously scratched the back of his neck, looking at bev as she giggled at his oblivious attitude. 

“Your name kinda gives it away, sounded similar to mom’s maiden name, she moved here from Kraków.” Eddie’s face lit up at the name of the familiar city.

“Oh, talk about a small world! My dad used to live there when he was a kid! He came over here in his twenties so i was born here but i used to visit my grandma there every summer before...” he trailed off, his mother hadn’t seen any purpose in spending so much money every year just to endanger Eddie through untrustworthy air travel for the purpose of visiting people she didn’t care for. It was always his father who took him and taught him the language until he died when Eddie was nine. He didn’t notice how his eyes had glazed over until Beverly seemed to notice his clear discomfort, the others beginning to nervously approach him. 

"Hey, are you alright?” a surprisingly deep voice asked from her right. Eddie looked towards the owner of said voice, a dark skinned boy who seemed concerned by the sudden shift in the hypochondriac’s mood. Eddie taken aback by his broad build, assuming him to be older than the rest of the group. Eddie blinked until his vision was clear, nodding. 

“Yeah, sorry, i’m alright, thanks.” he gave a soft smile, thankful for how caring he’d seemed before Beverly spoke up once more.

“Well if you’re okay, do you wanna come with us? You seem nice and i don’t think we’re too intimidating." Eddie took the chance to glance at the four males once more, all of them looking at him, some with interest and others seemingly sceptic. He didn’t expect them to trust him right away however, willing to go with them regardless. His gaze shifted back to Beverly as he nodded graciously

“yeah, that sounds great, i have to be home in like, an hour, though…” Beverly hummed in understanding before gesturing to the boy closest to her. He was a somewhat chubby guy with light brown hair, neatly brushed to the side. He smiled at Eddie,giving him a little wave as the dark haired male anxiously reciprocated the gesture. 

"That’s Ben, he knows a lot about the town’s history so if you’re interested, then he’s your guy." she winked at him and his cheeks grew tinted with a bright pink. She then moved onto the broad-shouldered boy who’d spoken before.

“There’s Mike, he’s homeschooled so you probably won’t see him as much as us” Mike grinned and Eddie was surprised by his sweet demeanor before his gaze flitted to a curly-haired blonde who was eyeing him with clear distrust. 

“That’s Stan, he always acts super serious but he’ll warm up.”Then her hand moved to her left, to a tall guy with a floppy side-swept fringe and a gangly frame that reminded him of the ghost he’d seen moments before. 

“Then there’s Bill, he was the original Loser,” Eddie tried to refrain from gaping at her, considering it wasn’t exactly common to outright insult your friends, but when Bill smiled, he realised it was just banter between them. 

“Loser?” he asked, still curious about the ‘original’ part.

“ i-it’s what wuh-we call ourselves!” Bill explained somewhat excitedly “nobody cuh-can use it against us i-if wuh-we’re proud of i-it.” Eddie nodded in understanding, choosing not to question the boy’s stutter.

"yeah, we’re the Losers club, we all get bullied and stuff but now we have each other” Ben smiled “you don’t have to stay with us if you don’t want to.” he added nervously. Not wanting to disappoint the seemingly friendly boy, he waved him hand in a dismissive gesture 

“i think i would actually,” he moved his hand to once again scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’d picked up. “To be honest, i’d probably fit in best with you guys…” Everyone seemed to smile at this, including Stanley, as they all began to loosen their grips on their bikes’ brakes. Mike hopped off of his, helping Eddie lift his bike off the ground since Eddie’s first attempt led him to wince from the dull stinging in his palm. Beverly swung her leg over the back of Bill’s, wrapping her arms around his waist. 

“We’re heading to the quarry, feel free to come with.” Eddie of course, did accompany them, riding beside Bill and Beverly. However, he couldn’t refrain from looking back, almost surprised when he made distant eye contact with the same battered boy from before, still stood by the dark house before dissolving from the short boy’s vision.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie is curious about Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait :')  
> Imma try do longer less cringey chapters from now on smh  
> Also i wrote a chapter but my interned got wacc and deleted it so i had to completely rewrite it so that kinda succed a lil and now it b s h o r t  
> Also warning for internalized homphobia

Richie was sure he'd been seen.

The thought made him feel stupid and naive. There was no way to know if he had really been seen, and it's not like he could currently ask. As a result, he merely stood at the edge of the sidewalk, watching as the pink-clad boy tumbled harshly into the asphalt. 

Feeling somewhat guilty, he rushed out to help him up, realising his stupidity when he hit the ground immediately afterwards. Groaning frustratedly, he sat himself up and observed as a group of teens approached the boy. 

They rode by bike and Richie had seen them many times, passing by the house without a second thought. He didn't know their names, nor where they lived in Derry, he just knew that he longed to. It was hard seeing them so often, looking so happy, knowing that he couldn't even walk up to say hi, and see if they wanted him around. It was hard to admit it, but he felt jealous. He pulled his knees to his chest, wincing at the damp feeling of his own congealed blood seeping through his shirt. Sighing, he looked up as a familiar red-headed girl approached the guy on the ground.

Richie focused on him mostly, conscious that he was currently invisible to even himself, he didn't care if he wasn't acknowledged. He mainly wished to take in his features, somewhat surprised by how smooth his skin looked. Although his stature was small and dainty, he appeared to be in his teens. Richie wasn't entirely sure, but it made sense for him to be around his age, or at least how old he was when he was alive. 

Maybe he was just hoping for them to have at least one thing in common, because goddammit this was the only person who'd seen him in 27 years. Richie still felt like the thought was irrational, but he knew there was something more to their short-lived eye contact than him simply staring into space. He was used to people looking directly into his eyes as they walked by, and deep down he hoped that it meant something, but they always looked so distant and empty. It hurt, really, it felt like they were literally looking through him and it served as yet another reminder that he was alone, but this time was different.

Now, don't get him wrong, the neibolt house was creepy to look at, and honestly a sight to see, but why would you stop to look at it whilst riding a bike? Surely it's not that much of a spectacle, but then he took himself into consideration. Sure, he looked normal, at least he did before he got fucking murdered and wound up permanently pale and covered in blood with the mistiest eyes any spirit could be graced with. He wondered if his eyes were part of it, remembering how they'd caught sight of the boy's warm brown irises.

Something about him felt odd. Richie had never seen him in Derry before and yet, if he'd still had a beating heart, he was sure it would be pounding in his chest. Even through his broken glasses he could see the boy's perfect, warm-toned skin, only highlighted by his rosy cheeks, which reminded Richie of soft, pink cotton candy. His face was framed by feathery, dark chestnut hair, which seemed to scatter in shades of red and gold in the gentle sunlight. It was neatly combed over to this side, but had been somewhat displaced after his fall, and Richie couldn't help but find it adorable.

Something that surprised Richie further, however, was his clothing. An oversized, pink polo shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, and below them was a pair of bright red shorts, loose around his slim legs. He could admit that the shirt was more of a corally shade but nevertheless, it was dangerous to wear something so feminine in Derry. That wasn't the only weird this though.

Around his hips, just above his waistband, was a fucking fanny pack.

The raven-haired spirit nearly squealed at the sight, completely enamoured by how the clunky accessory made the boy look so cute and small. However, he couldn't approach him, nor could he ignore how he looked when he laughed. He was giggling with the rest of the group, and although Richie couldn't distinguish his laugh amongst the others, the look on his face was enough. Adjusting his glasses, he came to the conclusion that the boy in his entirety radiated pure joy and warmth, and rather oddly, he reminded Richie of strawberries and peach. 

Somewhere deep within him though, he knew the feeling, because despite the twenty seven year gap between then and now, he remembered Connor, and most importantly, the way he felt about him too. It was almost horrifying as a realisation, that despite dying, he was still a disgusting predator. How could he excuse himself when he'd already been staring at this poor boy who he didn't even know and thinking of him in such a way?

He gulped loudly and stood up, restoring any visibility and he watched the group ride away. It made him feel hollow and he stared sadly, with deep longing as they left. He was sure they'd come back, they rode down neibolt street often, and hopefully the fanny-pack wearing male had joined them, but he was still painfully aware that no matter how many times he saw them go by, that's all he'd be able to do. Watch them from a distance, and remain alone.

So he watched the group leave, and hoped they'd come back soon, praying that he wasn't wrong. He knew it was pointless, but he timidly lifted a hand to wave shyly as they left, almost like a silent goodbye to the thing he wished he was a part of. His mind was screaming at him that he was stupid and overly hopeful, and that he was delusional for being so obsessed with a boy who he'd seen once in his (after)life, and he believed it wholeheartedly.

Despite this, he was still shocked when glistening doe eyes met his for a second time. It was in a rushed glance, but it still sent a buzz through him, almost confirming that he, Richie Tozier, had been seen for what felt like the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of fic ideas and stuff in progress so if i post a new thing, dw i'm not abandoning this.
> 
> I might rewrite this once it's finished purely because reading previous chapters lowkey makes me cringe :')  
> also im sorry that this highkey sucked

**Author's Note:**

> Okay i am very aware that my writing is repetetive and overly worded, i blame my english teacher.  
> Point being, i know i'm not the best so i'm sorry you had to endure that shitshow.  
> If you enjoyed it however, that's chill.
> 
> Thanks for reading, next part will be up shortly


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